


getting away with murder

by unholyconfessions (orphan_account)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyconfessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy wants to know what makes Oliver so special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	getting away with murder

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea I had after watching 1x08. Not beta'd.
> 
> A few changes were made as of March 14th, but nothing major. 
> 
> Enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tommy goes from being in bed with Laurel to drinking his ass to death at Oliver’s club in a matter of seconds. The sour taste he got in his mouth the moment Laurel said they needed to talk still sits heavily on his tongue, eating away at him. It’s not like he wasn’t aware of her still being in love with Oliver—he knew that, everybody knew that—but he figures that someone as intelligent as Laurel surely would think of a better time than post-coital bliss to tell him that.

He doesn’t get why everyone is just so eager to forgive Oliver, to protect Oliver, to _love_ Oliver, because he’s an immature jerk most of the time—not unlike Tommy himself—and yet, he could get away with murder. Maybe it’s Oliver’s eyes, or smile, or the absurd amount of muscle he’s put on while being away on an island—which shouldn’t be possible, really—that makes him so appealing to others.

And while Oliver is reveling in his billionaire trust fund, with the world revolving around him, Tommy is working night after night to be able to pay Laurel a nice meal on the weekend. At least he doesn’t have to do that anymore.

So, when he dials Oliver’s number and Oliver takes the stool next to him five minutes later, Tommy tells him just that. Oliver nods, scratches a spot just under his jawline, and makes Tommy feel like punching him if only they weren’t best friends.

“You don’t have a clue, do you?”

Oliver shrugs, this time, opening his mouth to say, “I don’t know.”

“Seriously? People bend over backwards for you and all you have to say about it is _I don’t know_? Do you know how fucking infuriating that is?”

“I do.”

“And you can’t come up with a better response than that? For crying out loud, Oliver,” Tommy snaps. “I don’t get you.”

He buries his face in his hands, waiting for Oliver to fire back another wooden response or to up and leave, but Oliver does neither. Tommy glances up at him to find him smiling like he used to before the island, before everything.

“What?”

Oliver shakes his head, looking down at the floor. “Nothing. I just,” he says, “I remember when you used to call me in the middle of the night because the girl you liked had dumped you for the quarterback.”

“Yeah, that’s funny.” Tommy sighs. “Except it was never for the quarterback, it was always for you. I just never told you that. It was humiliating enough that I knew it myself. You didn’t have to know about it either.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever. I was just a kid back then. Laurel dumping me for you now isn't even comparable.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Laurel and I, we... It would never work out. Not anymore.”

“How come? You’re hot, she’s hot. You’re single, she’s single. There’s nothing stopping you.”

“You think I’m hot?”

Of course, _that’s_ the part Oliver listened to. “The entire _world_ thinks you’re hot.”

“But do _you_ think I’m hot?”

“I just said the enti—”

Alright, so maybe it’s all about Oliver’s _mouth_ , after all, because it sure feels good against Tommy’s, soft but demanding, licking at his bottom lip to ask for permission, which Tommy grants in all his drunken glory, even if he might either not remember it or regret it colossally in the morning.

“God, I would definitely let you get away with murder."

“What?”

“Nothing. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”


End file.
